Fire of Youth Halloween Special: The Old Hunger
by MiniKoontzy
Summary: A mystery assailant has been attacking multiple Decepticon-held mines in Canada for the past few weeks, but no one has ever caught the killer. With his forces significantly diminished due to Starscream's carelessness, Megatron calls on the Autobots for help. What they find at the mine is not a possible ally, but a half-rotten monstrosity consumed only by the urge to feed.


**Fire of Youth: The Old Hunger**

_Halloween Special  
_

_Okay so this didn't come out ON Halloween like I told myself it would, but in my defense October is when the work load picks up. Gimme a break here, guys. Consider this a spooky Christmas gift to you all. Halloween episodes happen "out of season" in shows anyway. This will be a long one, so buckle in!  
_

* * *

"Slag, I hate this place. It's too cold."

"Then be thankful you're _inside_, idiot."

It was hard to fault that logic, but the chill wind wafting in from the mine entrance nearby was persistent. It was an attack all on its own. It made the assignment of guard duty at the mine even more unbearable than it already was. There wasn't much left in the out-of-the-way mine to guard anyway _– _the mine, by now, was eighty percent stripped. But Lord Megatron was as persistent as the cold that kept barging in; until the mine was left entirely barren, it would be worked and guarded. Still, he grumbled, the least that could be done was put up some kind of barrier to keep the cold out. Maybe then the guards like himself could actually guard the entrance instead of standing guard near the main chamber threshold. How could they keep lookout on the terrain when they couldn't _see _the terrain?!

"What's the point? We'll be outta here completely in under a lunar cycle," his companion growled. "Just grin and bear it. Then we'll never have to see it again."

He snarled, leaned back against the wall, and crossed his arms. A lunar cycle was a _long_ way away when in the northern Canadian wilderness in the winter.

"Screw it," he mumbled as he pushed himself off the wall. "I'm finding something to block the draft."

"Y'know that'll require you walking out _into _the cold you're complaining about, right?"

"No it won't," he answered, "'cause I'm gonna look for something _in here _first."

One search later and he was forced to trudge back by his fellow chamber guard, hunched over in frustration and growling. "I'll be _right _back," he grumbled.

As the other guard snickered, he stepped out into the cold. The wind was bad enough but the snow was actually worse. His trods sank into it and the heat from his own body made it melt into a freezing, watery sludge and seep into every crack it could possibly find. But he trudged on. There had to be something he could use. It would be no good to have the guards lethargic from the cold right before an attack, and this mine _had _reportedly been having some problems lately. Plus, a door block would also act as a barricade against attacks. Two birds, one stone, as the humans said.

He paused and looked around. An idea came: chop a few of the local trees down and lay them over the mine entrance at an angle. That might do it. It wouldn't be perfect but it would work well enough to keep the majority of the cold out by reducing the wind. It was only temporary anyway; it didn't have to look nice. The only problem was he didn't actually have anything to cut them down with. He only had blasters. That might attract attention. The wrong kind.

"Hey, Sever," he asked into his comm. link. "Can you do me a favor and bring me a miner's laser-cutter?"

*_Sure. Whatever. Think we've got a spare in here somewhere._*

"Hurry," he hissed. "It's freezing out here!"

*_Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, you oversized sparkling. Gimme a klik._*

He kept moving to make sure nothing started to freeze up, going around and marking the trees he would use by tearing off some of the bark.

"Hey!" his fellow guard called. "Over here!"

He turned away from the trees and trotted in the direction of the voice. He didn't think much about the fact the voice wasn't coming from the mine entrance that he'd come out of; mines had at least one emergency exit in case of collapse. Sever must've taken the way back out. Slagged if he knew why though. It would've been easier to go straight out the way he'd gone, but whatever. Maybe he was just being careful. After that "accident" on the ship they all had to be careful not attract too much attention until Shockwave's project was done.

He rounded the mountain and was surprised to find Sever wasn't there. There were deep pockets in the snow like he'd _been _there but there was no sign of him otherwise.

"Uh, Sever? Hello?" he called as he kept walking. "Sever? Answer me..."

He stopped when something dinked onto his helm from higher up the slope.

* * *

Hiking the mining laser over his shoulder, he headed for the main mine entrance where the cold draft kept rushing in. In Sever's defense, it _was _really cold out and the wind did nothing to help. His impatience for the laser really couldn't be helped. He braced himself, muttered a few curses to himself, and ducked out into the snow.

"Buzzkill?" he called. "I got your laser! Where are you?"

"_Over here!_" Buzzkill called.

He went for the sound of his voice. Buzzkill was farther from the mine entrance than he'd expected: around towards the back of the low mountain slope. For someone who had been complaining about the cold that was a surprising distance. Maybe he'd just been moving to keep things from freezing up though. Typical move in low temperatures.

"_Hurry it up!_"_  
_

"Alright. Jeez! It's hard to walk in this stuff!"

He made it to where Buzzkill was waiting _– _and found no sign of Buzzkill. Only a deep dip in the snow and a splash of bright blue that trailed up the slope. Like he'd been hurt and then dragged up.

He backed off and whipped the laser around. "Show yourself, Autobot scum!"

A low gurgle made him look up. Something big launched itself at him from higher up the slope.

Jagged jaws ripped the scream right out of him.

* * *

He heard the doors behind him open with a faint hiss. Even fainter trods tapped against the floor.

"Soundwave," he stated, turning to face him. "You have something for me?"

The silent Communications Chief nodded once. A personnel log from a mine was displayed on his visor. Two more guards had Xs through their names.

"I suppose it is a foregone conclusion that there were no bodies in this attack either?" he asked.

"_No bodies..._" repeated Soundwave.

He growled and clenched a fist. They were now the fourth and fifth individuals to go missing from that particular mine alone in the past two weeks, and the tenth in total among the northwestern network of mines over the past month. He had not thought much of the disappearances to begin with, admittedly; a few soldiers or miners going missing was hardly a dent in the grand scheme of his conquest. But now, after Starscream and Knockout's foolish experiment, he could no longer flaunt the advantage of numbers. He was trapped as he waited for the clones to mature in their vats. He could not afford to ignore the losses now. Two guards going missing at once appeared indicative of whatever was attacking literally doubling their efforts. And yet, most confounding, no one had yet laid optics on this attacker, nor were bodies ever recovered. For all intents and purposes, guards or miners would go out for whatever reason and simply not come back _– _as if the winter wilderness had swallowed them whole.

"How recent was this?"

Soundwave displayed the date of the disappearances: less than twelve hours prior.

"Have the CD-7 mine put on high alert," he ordered, "and gather a squadron to investigate the vicinity around it."

Soundwave nodded once.

It took little effort on Soundave's part to see his order carried through. A small squadron of soldiers were amassed from the ship and launched post haste. Soundwave offered a groundbridge for quicker passage.

"If you see anything," he snarled, "_shoot it_."

"_Understood, Lord_ _Megatron_," their leader replied.

The troops eventually reported their arrival at the mine. According to their tracker beacons, they chose wisely to remain in their group rather than split.

"Well?" he demanded.

"_Nothing. I __– wait, what's that?"_

"_It looks like...corroded metal. Eugh. And it reeks of acid."_

_"Scrap, what was that?"_

"_You heard that?_"

"_Heard wh - OH_ _SLAG!_"

"_What is that thing?!"_

_"Shoot it! Shoot it!"_

He thought he heard an unmistakable gurgle or growl through one of the lines. Blasters fired _– _an apparently futile act. Within a few minutes all that remained of them was static.

For once, Starscream was left utterly speechless.

He growled and slammed a fist into the controls. So the attacker was still there. Their attack might signify it intended to remain there, taking unkindly to outside intrusion. If that reasoning held, sending more of his troops in, either from the ship or the mine itself, would result in the same outcome: death. He would not risk sending in the Predacons to test if that reasoning held for them as well. But perhaps...

"Soundwave!" he snapped.

The faceless mech stared back at him, silently awaiting orders.

Through clenched denta he gave an order he never thought he would make: "Contact Agent Fowler."

Soundwave did so. The surly liasion's voice growled over the line: "_You've got some nerve __you glorified trash can!_"

"If you would put aside your indignation for a moment," he growled back, "I have a proposition for you that you might be interested in."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"Trick or treat!"

All three kids were standing at his trods holding up baskets and dressed really weirdly. Rafael had on some really elaborate black and white face-paint designed to look like an artistic skull decked out with little flowers and spirals, and wore a blue long-sleeved blouse, trousers, and a trench coat that looked slightly oversized for him. Jack, his face also painted pure white with black around the lips, wore a thin-fitting pinstripe suit, a white undershirt, and nice black shoes. Miko honestly was dressed the weirdest out of all of them, though her get up was arguably the most impressive: pink tights with purple lacing, a frilly purple shirt, spiky goth bands held her pigtails up, and her lips and eyes were shadowed purple and grey respectively. A bat necklace and wand-staff thing with a hand-made Decepticon crest completed the look.

He blinked. "Uhhh, what's going on?"

"Halloween!" Miko chirped.

"...What?"

"You dress up in costumes and go trick or treating!" Raf smiled.

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled back. "And what are you three dressed up as?"

"Dr. Boo! The Tenth Doctor: Dia de los Muertos edition!" Raf clarified.

"I salute your pun game!" he laughed.

"I'm Jack Skellington, from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_," Jack grinned shyly. "...It was the best I could throw together short notice."

"I'm almost scared to ask what you are," he admitted as he eyed Miko.

Miko put her hands on her hips, grinned a mad, proud grin, and proclaimed "Magical Girl: Megatron!"

Bluestreak stared for a moment, then fell to the floor almost crying from laughter. Bumblebee let out a delighted trill of his own.

Deeper in the hangar, Bulkhead sputtered in disbelief. "I thought you were _joking_ about that costume!"

"Nope!" Miko grinned.

The green Wrecker laughed long and hard. Not even Ratchet or the grim Ribbondance could hold back a brief chortle. Ultra Magnus and Prowl looked...conflicted. In the most hilarious possible way. It was like they couldn't decide whether to be amused, horrified, confused, or all three.

"Trick or treat!" Miko repeated.

He glanced sideways at Ratchet, hoping for clarification. "Am I supposed to choose or...?"

'_Trick them! Trick them!_' a voice in his helm cackled.

"Shut _up_, Liege..." he grumbled.

'_It's not like you have any treats for them. Trick is your only option!_"

He rolled his optics and blocked the smooth-talking Prime out.

"I don't think we have anything for you here, guys. Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

"We know! Miko just wanted to stop by before heading to the on-site housing!" Raf assured.

"To give us all an image in our heads that we never wanted nor asked for?" Prowl wondered flatly.

Miko let out a loud peal of laughter. Neither Prowl nor Ultra Magnus shared her amusement.

Wheeljack elbowed him. "Come on, Prowl. She's just having some fun."

"Prime!"

Fowler hopped out of a Jeep with Mark at the wheel. He was rather happy the friendly soldier hopped out too.

"...You have the face," he noted with some worry. "Is something wrong, Fowler?"

"Depends on who you're asking," the dark-skinned liaison hemmed as he stalked in.

He silently arced a brow ridge, nervously glanced back at Ratchet, then eyed Fowler.

Fowler took that as permission to continue. He saddled up to him, put his hands in his pockets, looked him straight in the optics, and said, "King 'Con's got a proposal for you all."

"Proposal?" Ultra Magnus repeated. "He wants us to consort with the enemy?"

"It _has _happened before, sir," Arcee clarified quickly. "It was just..._really _extenuating circumstances."

"Really, _really _extenuating circumstances," agreed Jack.

"He wants you to look into a string of disappearances around some Canadian mines. Miners and guards are apparently vamoosing. Or, rather, being vamoosed."

He folded his arms and huffed, "Great. I won't stop whoever's doing it. I appreciate the help."

"To be frank, I agree. But something's weird with these disappearances, kid. There's no evidence it's a 'Bot."

He let some of his spitefulness go in favor of curiosity. His arms dropped. Megatron had no clue who was attacking his mines?

"Apparently there's been no detection of an Autobot identifier beacon. Over three and a half weeks of this over multiple mines and there's no evidence it's one of ours. Anyone who's seen it is dead. They can't even find the bodies."

"Okay, weird, but why should we stop this? Sounds like he's getting a long-overdue visit from karma."

"That's what I told him. Thing is, he's willing to give us something in exchange if we help him: the most recently attacked mine."

"Bribery?" sneered Ribbondance.

"Call it bribery, but it is what it is. If we take out this assassin, he's not only willing to yield the mine to us, he won't even try to take it back."

"And he expects us to believe he'll _actually _follow through?" Arcee deadpanned.

"He actually seems willing to stick to the deal. Which may be a good indicator he's desperate and out of options. Why I'm not sure but this may be a good time to take advantage of this offer. _We _can twist _his _arm instead of the other way around."

"Any additional info?" he pressed.

"Yeah. One of the soldiers found a hunk of corroded metal when he and his pals went to look into the most recent disappearances. Right before _they _got attacked and killed."

"Corroded? Do you mean like rust or like acid?" asked Jack.

"Acid."

The teen leaned back, thoughtful and a little disturbed. To his surprise, the Beast Prime shared Jack's perturbation though he gave no explanation why.

"So if it's not one of ours, and it's not a 'Con, obviously," he mused, "could that mean we're dealing with an unaligned?"

"There is that chance," Prowl conceded. "Though that doesn't explain the drifting between mines and only targeting the personnel."

"It's peculiar that they'd focus on the people in the mine without ever seeming to make the attempt to actually _take _the mine. Surely if they wanted the resources they would focus on one mine," Ultra Magnus added. "If there _is_ a strategy behind this behavior I'm presently at a loss to explain it."

He stood back and thought on that. A little weird that a possible unaligned had shown up so suddenly. Or had they been here the whole time and only just now emerged from stasis, like Skyquake had? If so, had something gone wrong with their pod or had someone woken them up? Why were they only taking out the miners and guards in pairs? If it was the mine they wanted then surely they'd focus on removing the personnel from the mine in one go, like Magnus said, not shifting between mines after only taking out a fraction of them. Unless they were maybe trying to goad his Autobots into arriving – a twisted sort of "notice me" display? Or maybe they were even trying to get a certain Decepticon to show up; Miko and Wheeljack had employed a similar tactic in the past to get Hardshell to come fight them without his hive as backup.

"I mean, if they're taking out 'Cons for us maybe we can ask them to team up!" Miko cheerfully chirped.

"Let's just see what's up first," he told her slowly. "Fowler, did he tell you where the mine is?"

"Got the geographic coordinates right here, Prime," the man announced and pulled a little slip of scrap paper out of his suit pocket.

"You're actually agreeing to do this?" Arcee wondered, baffled.

"Our numbers are growing, Arcee. Grimwing. Ribbondance. Who knows if more will show up? If he's willing to cough up valuable resources to us as payment, I'm willing to hear him out. And if it _is _an ally, we'd be getting the payment free of charge."

"You don't think it's a trap?" Mark wondered.

He glanced down at him. "...Let's just say I'm not holding my breath hoping that it's not. Prowl? With me."

The mech cocked his helm to the side. "No one else?"

"I'm keeping it low for now. The fewer the better."

"Need me to tag along, too?" the young soldier offered.

"Unless you want hypothermia I'd recommend you remain here, Mr. Daily," Ratchet warned. "Those coordinates are for far northern Quebec."

Mark shrugged, put his hands in his pockets, and yielded in good grace.

"It's not too cold for you guys, is it?" Rafael wondered nervously.

"It will be cold but, while uncomfortable, it should pose no major risk to either of them," the old medic assured him.

"Besides, Infernus can breathe fire! Portable heat source!" chirped Bluestreak.

He had to give Blue that. Yet another reason being changed into a Predacon was coming in handy.

"I'd prefer someone else go in your stead," Ratchet grumbled at him as he opened a groundbridge. "But you'd blend into the terrain better than anyone else."

"I mean, _you _could come," he suggested. "You're mostly white too, y'know."

"Walk into a snow field in the middle of nowhere with an unknown assailant running around with the capacity to melt armor plate? No, thank you," the old medic harrumphed back.

"Wuss," he teased.

The medic arced an imperious brow ridge at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Wuss," he teased again, smirking.

Ratchet sputtered and pointed at the portal. "Out."

He chuckled and with Prowl at his back he stepped through the groundbridge _–_ and almost instantly started second-guessing his cavalier attitude. Upon exiting, he sank a few feet as the snow collapsed under his weight and the heat from his own body caused the snow to melt into a icy slush. As if to rub it in, a freezing north wind blew in his faceplates and forced a shiver. Prowl, naturally, remained stone-faced as ever despite the cold.

"Shall we begin?" prompted Prowl.

"Wait. Lemme make sure we didn't get played."

He focused and listened. Through the wind he could make out the sound of machinery coming from nearby, alongside a faint but tell-tell scent of processed Energon. That seemed like a mine. He supposed Megatron had actually been honest and given the correct coordinates to the mine – though considering what was going on around said mine he wondered if that was actually a good thing.

"Ratchet?" he called into his comm. link. "We're not gonna get shot at, are we?"

[Doubtful. Fowler says that Megatron put the mine on lockdown: no one in, no one out. You shouldn't have to worry about the personnel so long as you keep clear of the entrances.]

It was weird, but he sort of wished the personnel _would _get involved. A couple dozen extra sets of optics wouldn't hurt.

"Come on. Let's go."

With Prowl tailing him, he trudged through the snow. It was somewhat hard to hear over the crisp _crunch _beneath his trods but he kept his audials on high alert, on the hunt for anything that sounded vaguely Cybertronian. But even in the otherwise dead silence of the snowy wilderness he could not hear anything of the sort. As the minutes dragged into an hour, he was torn between relief and deep suspicion. Either the attacker had retreated to another mine or they were still there and somehow hiding. Then, nearly two klicks from the mine, his trod hit something buried in the snow – something metallic. He stooped and swept the snow away with a hand. Revealed was a warped hunk of purple metal. He recognized the color too. Unable to tell what it was, he pulled it out and handed it to Prowl who ran a critical optic over it.

"Ratchet, we've found something," Prowl announced. "Possibly the remains of one of the missing Decepticons. It's difficult to tell what body part it was, it's so warped and corroded."

[How badly corroded?] came Grimwing's worried voice.

"Uh, pretty bad," he confirmed. "Why do you sound nervous though?"

[...I have a suspicion.]

"Care to voice it then?"

[The corrosion. It has to be a very strong acid to corrode a body. And as far as I'm aware, such a powerful corrosive acid can only be found in the belly of a beast.]

[Woah, wait; are you suggesting there's a rogue Pred up there _eating Decepticons?_] gasped Jack.

[That's super metal!] Miko gasped.

[It's not crazy, either,] grunted Wheeljack. [Remember, according to Razorplume, his brother Divebomb was doing the same shtick down in Central America.]

[Except that punk was targeting pretty much anyone that could fit in his huge mouth.] Bulkhead recalled. [This one seems to be targeting 'Cons.]

But they were robots, Rafael reminded him. They didn't need to eat. Not like humans did.

[Modern frames, perhaps not. You have your 'cleaner' ways of obtaining fuel,] mused Ribbondance. [But we were made as predators, Rafael. Hunters. Our very name evokes this purpose. We were designed to feast on other life forms. It does not surprise me that one may have relapsed to the old ways. If they cannot take a mine and consume the raw crystals, it only makes sense to consume the workers. It would even be more efficient; the Energon within them is pre-processed. The body itself would provide a good mineral boost, as well.]

[...You said that _way _too matter-of-factly,] Arcee noted, clearly disturbed.

"So, what, Prowl and I are on the menu?"

[If the Predacon has already had a meal recently, they should not be a threat to you. Further, Predacons never consume other Predacons. It's considered taboo.]

He sincerely hoped she was right. It was disturbing enough this Predacon was eating other sapient Cybertronians, Decepticons or not. Then again, the alternative was probably even grosser. He remembered old stories about some mech called the Cannibal Baron who had consumed others with the idea that doing so would grant him their powers; he had no idea if the guy was real or just a story but it was pretty disturbing either way.

[...Hold on. If this _is _a Predacon, shouldn't you have gotten a chip signal, Ratchet? All Predacons here are Shockwave's clones, and as far as we can tell, all of them were tagged with tracking chips.]

[_Should_ have, yes. I can detect no such signal.]

"...This is _so _a trap," he mumbled. "He lured me out here with goodies like a total newb and now he's gonna have me killed out in the middle of nowhere."

Optimus rumbled that he rather doubted that particular scenario (Starscream, in his experience, was the one more likely to employ baited traps) but he advised him to keep on guard regardless. He could offer no other strategic insight until he knew what was attacking the mine – "Predacon" was simply too broad. So, despite wanting to simply leave, he kept on hiking through the snow drifts. The Predacon wouldn't be near the mine, he knew that; that would be too risky. They'd have been spotted by now if that were true. They probably had a safe spot farther away, a place to bunker down out of the cold and probably stash kill remnants too. That might explain why there weren't bodies lying out in the open, only pieces torn off from the source.

Then he paused. A noise on the wind caught his attention. He silently motioned for Prowl to keep close as he stalked towards a bend in a mountain slope. That was where the noise was coming from. He was dead certain.

"You hear it?" whispered Prowl.

"Shh!"

"How close –?"

"_Shh!_"

Prowl went quiet.

He craned his neck and strained his audials. Very distinct, the noise. In a bad way. He remembered hearing something like it once at an old automobile recycling yard: the grinding and gnashing and pained creaking of warped metal. Then came a horribly low gurgling growl, followed by a strong whiff of something foul and bitter on the cold wind. Fearing the worst, he peered around the bend – and saw it. Something huge was hunched over what looked like a Decepticon trooper, but the body was so mangled he couldn't tell if it was an Eradicon or a Vehicon. Even more disturbing, the..._thing's_ horned head was plunged into the trooper's sundered chassis where a nauseating slurping noise was coming from.

"Uh, Onyx?" he whispered. "What do you call _that?_"

The beast's horned head snapped up, dragging a dangling canine jaw with it that dripped fresh Energon. Violet-stained yellow optics bored into him. Wild. Hungry. A wet gurgle came from somewhere deep in its throat. It reared up onto its hind limbs, revealing slabs of jutting metal on its chest that looked an awful lot like ribs.

'_Run boy!_' barked Onyx. '_RUN!_'

The thing snarled and leapt at them both. He scrambled, reverted form, and ran. His wings pumped and launched him into the air.

*_Prowl!_*

Prowl understood and leapt. The thing leapt after him in turn. Not a moment too soon did he grab Prowl and gain height. He heard jaws snap tight on empty air half a second later. The thing screamed at them from below as he flew to the peak of the mountain. Prowl was subsequently released.

"Okay, new plan!" he declared after transforming. "Kill it! Kill it with fire! A lot of fire!"

"That is _not_ a plan, Infernus," Prowl retorted. "We need to strategize. Based on what we know it tracks by sound –"

"_Then stop talking!_" he hissed.

_REEEeeeeeeeeEEEE!_

He quickly peered over and down to find the beast was clambering up the slope at a near supernatural pace; huge clawed paws pierced into the stone like climbing hooks.

"Scrap!"

He transformed and spat a stream of flame at it. He heard it scream but when the fire cleared it was, though now scorched, still climbing. Prowl fired at it but that did nothing to deter it either. Just as it reached the edge and clambered up he swung his tail at its snout-like face and sent it hurtling back to the snowy terrain below. But it merely righted itself, screamed at him again and began climbing once more. It wasn't just perseverance keeping it going either, he realized. That wild hunger in its stained optics spoke of desperation that went well past caring about factions. There was no way he was going to be able to reason with it like he had with Grimwing.

"You're the strategist, Prowl! Any bright ideas?!" he demanded.

"We need to know what we're fighting before I can determine a viable plan to kill it!" Prowl snipped back. "All I can tell for certain is that it's been infected by Dark Energon! That's going to make it much more difficult to kill!"

"Oh freaking –! Great, so it's a _zombie_ cannibal Predacon!" he hissed sarcastically. "Megatron revived a dead Predacon with voodoo and now it wants to eat everyone!"

_SCrEEEEeeeee!_

Another bash of his tail sent it down again. This time, however, it seemed to consider for a moment before backing off, hissing. It ran back into the snow.

"It's retreated," Prowl noted.

"Or it's planning," he warned grimly.

'_Do we know Megatron is responsible?_' rumbled Optimus.

'_It is a reasonable strategy,_' mused Alpha Trion. '_Revive a Predacon, lure Infernus out with a promise of resources, and see him killed in the process of trying to get rid of the_ _beast_.'

_'That_ _seems_..._convoluted._'

'_He doesn't hold him in the same regard as he did you, Optimus. Having less respect for him as an opponent, he would not be as willing to fight him directly._'

"Wow. Thanks for that, teach," he grumbled.

'_I am simply stating fact, Infernus. I was not trying to offend._'

'_But if Megatron revived it, he controls it. What purpose would it serve to have the beast attack his own troops?_'

'_...Megatron does seem to often employ "high-risk/high-reward__" schemes_,' Vector reminded them.

Optimus had to yield Vector that point. But he did recall that when it came to his troops, they were never harmed unless Megatron was angry or frustrated. That anger was usually directed at his higher officers, like Starscream, as well. Neither scenario appeared to apply in this situation. These attacks were, as far as he could tell, entirely unprovoked.

'_You think somebody else rezzed it and sic'ed it on the 'Cons,_' realized Amalgamous.

'_Perhaps._' Optimus didn't sound totally convinced though. He had an idea, he could almost feel it, but he naturally wanted more info before he made a conclusion. And that sadly meant one thing.

"We need to go after it," he said.

"Are you daft?" Prowl retorted. "That _thing _just tried to eat us!"

"You said we need to know what we're dealing with. We're not gonna get that by standing up here."

"You would have an easier time finding it. Get up in the air. Observe it. I'll remain here to watch the mine, to see if it doubles back."

"No, no, no! That's literally the decision that kills everyone in a horror movie, Prowl!" he protested.

Prowl was unbothered by his argument. "This is an easily defensible position. If it will alleviate your fears, I will keep my comm. link open the entire time. Nothing will happen without you knowing about it."

He groaned, muttered some choice words to himself about Prowl's painfully logical argument, but decided that was as good as he was going to get from him. Prowl had never been the sort to abruptly change his mind; he was infamous for that.

Giving one last glower at the mech, he took to the air, high up into the cold clouds, and then zeroed in on the ground. The thing had been dark, he recalled; spotting it against all the white would be easy. He backtracked to where the body had been only to find it gone. But not without a clue about where it had gone: there was a furrow in the snow where it had been dragged off. Following that eventually led him to the body, now missing both arms and a leg, but there was no sign of the killer. There were depressions in the snow left by its huge paws, though he supposed it was too much to hope that it had just fled the scene completely rather than fight again. That would be too convenient. And that didn't mesh with the desperation he'd caught in its optics.

'_Maybe you could attract it with a little noise?_' suggested Liege.

'_Shut up, Liege!_' he and Solus barked together.

'_...Sheesh. A genuine helpful suggestion and you bite my helm off. You're welcome._'

He kept following the depressions until he reached the edge of a frozen lake. There, the depressions petered off. Either the beast could fly (not likely), could cloak (maybe?), or it could employ strategy to lose him. But zombies couldn't _plan_, could they? They were mindless, empty, reanimated husks. Any "planning" was just proof that someone else _was _controlling it, wasn't it?

A little pulse of doubt went through the Matrix. There was never any proof that undead could be controlled over huge distances; based on the information Optimus had, proximity was needed. He had yet to find a foreign spark signal to square away that theory.

Scared and confused, he pulled away from the lake. What the heck was going on?!

Not Megatron. Not one of his minions. Not the miners or the guards. Then who –?

[You've found the beast?] came Prowl's voice over a private channel.

He almost paused mid-flap in his confusion. [Uh, no? If I had I would've told you.]

[You informed me moments ago that you had located the beast.]

Anxiety started to creep in. His voice quavered as he answered, [No. I didn't.]

There was a distinct pause on Prowl's end. [Meet me back at the mine,] he then requested. [Someone, I do not know who, just tried to trick me from my post using _your _voice.]

Well _that _was ten different levels of creepy. [It wasn't Soundwave, was it?]

Prowl was dead certain it hadn't been. Soundwave employed recorded playbacks to mimic voices, and it was very clear when he was mimicking. What he had heard had been full-fledged, independent sentences made using _his _voice. And he feared that this perhaps explained why troops or miners were exiting the mines: far from being ordered, they were being _lured out_ by a familiar voice.

[Lured out by a parroted voice, ya say?] Neil repeated. [Can you see the beast, son? Is it near where Prowl is? Can you detect it on your scanning equipment?] His voice had noticeably tightened.

Prowl confirmed he had nothing on scanners. He was forced to admit the same.

[Christ...I pray it ain't what I think it is. I'd say to get the hell outta there but leaving that thing to roam free would be bad news for _both _of ya'll's factions.]

Prowl jumped on the implication. [You know what this creature is?]

[I do. And whatever you do, double check anything you hear that isn't over an encrypted private line, ya hear?]

He headed back towards the mine. Or at least tried to. Some hesitation was coming from the Matrix.

Alchemist hemmed. '_Mind if I augment those peepers o' yers for a klik, lad?_'

He allowed Alchemist to do so. His sight soon shifted into the same weird energy-tracing state he'd used to find Scorchmark's spark. Rather than the burning oranges and reds he'd left, the one he saw now was purple-ish black. Worryingly, the trail looped around and headed back for the mine and somehow there wasn't as noticeable of a trail through the snow, like it knew it was being tracked.

'_Skyquake seemed to have some lingering sentience in his undead state. This is not entirely unprecedented,_' Optimus mused. '_What confused me was its speed. That is not normal._'

He agreed and followed the energy trail.

[Prowl, where did the voice tell you to go?] he demanded.

[South of the mine. Why?]

Clever. Get Prowl around where he wouldn't immediately see him or the beast when he came back.

Right as he came up on the mine, the trail went from faint to intense. He heard a faint gurgling noise and the click of metal on stone and then caught movement higher up the slope, above where Prowl was stationed.

[_Prowl behind you!_] he shrieked.

Prowl spun just as the beast leapt at him from above but he wasn't fast enough to dodge. It tackled him and both mechs were sent tumbling down into the snowdrift below. The beast screamed and snapped its jaws dangerously close to his faceplates and it was too big and heavy for Prowl to throw it off. He thus tucked his wings in and dove, ramming his whole body into it and throwing it off Prowl. It then tried the same tactic on him, practically hurling itself at him with a scream. He was able to react faster than Prowl. His tail slammed into it and it hit the mountain behind it with enough force to crack the stones. It tumbled forward then, seemingly barely able to hold it itself up.

He transformed. "Prowl, do you still keep stasis cuffs on you?"

"I do indeed."

"Give 'em here."

Prowl appeared confused. "You aren't going to kill it?"

"Not until until I find out what the heck is going on with this thing."

Prowl reluctantly handed the cuffs over. He then approached the downed beast, surprised to hear a faint whine coming from it – not that he trusted it. The beast had already proven it could voice act; it stood to reason it could _act_-act too. Right as he was about to put the cuffs over its wrists though, a grosser noise started: a sickening _hurk-hurk-hurk. _He was thankful he backed up because the next thing he knew the beast regurgitated a warped mass of metal into the snow.

He almost gagged. "Ew! Gross! I think that's that one guy's arms and leg!"

The beast looked up at him then with the same wild desperation. Snarling, it launched itself at him and pinned him down. Prowl body-slammed it off and while it lay for a second in the snow belly-up he neatly clicked the cuffs onto its front paws. When it tried to fall back onto all fours, it fell snout-first into the snow.

"Thanks," he gasped.

"Perhaps let the trained law officer deal with an unpredictable specimen in future?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

He dared kneel over it. The beast nearly snapped his hand off when it got to close. It was so desperate to get him it started to inch forward in weird caterpillar-like motions. As he was heaviest, he plonked himself down on top of it. Even _then_ it still kept struggling. He could hear it pitifully whining as if begging him "Please! Please! Just a little nibble?!"

"Send an image and a scan of this thing back to base. Let's see what Neal and Ratchet can make of this."

It took some careful maneuvering to get either but get them Prowl did, and off they were sent.

* * *

He didn't believe the image when it finished downloading. A monstrous black-ish, brown-ish, purple-tainted _thing _with long, gently curved horns like that of antelope but attached to a very distinctly canine head and snout. Oddly proportioned limbs; upper limbs were almost as long as the lower. Huge wolf paws bore eerily elongated digits with equally huge claws on the tips while the back legs looked a lot more like hooves. It was a fuzor of some sort, beyond doubt, but in a deplorable state. Parts of it looked to have snapped or fallen off (he could tell one of the jaw hinges was terribly loose and part of its arm had been ripped open) and it bore the distinct purple glow of Dark Energon.

"Christ Almighty," gasped Neal. "So I was right. It _was _a Windego. Or at least it looks like one."

"You mean that thing from _Pet Cemetery_?" wondered Jackson.

"It's _supposed _to be an old Algonquian myth, one that warns against the taboo of excess and greed. The story says the Windego eats and eats, but is always starving. I...does this mean that it wasn't just a cultural warning myth?"

"Or...maybe you guys have a similar thing?" Rafael wondered at Bumblebee.

*_Not that I know of_.*

He let the humans discuss among themselves the myth behind the monster. He was more concerned with the body scan Prowl had sent. The physical damage and Dark Energon was bad enough, but Prowl's scan had inadvertently revealed something even more disturbing. Prowl's scanners however were nowhere near as accurate as his. He needed to be sure his scan hadn't been a fluke.

"Mr. Rowland, Agent Fowler, can you manage things here? I need to meet Infernus in the field."

"Sure thing," both men answered.

Ultra Magnus looked more than a little hurt at the decision but he didn't fight it.

* * *

He almost jumped when a groundbridge opened up and Ratchet came out. The beast below squirmed and struggled even more ferociously.

"Doc?" he wondered.

"Hold it still," Ratchet grunted.

Prowl joined him. After Ratchet's red medical swept over the beast a few times his expression went from troubled to downright disturbed.

"Infernus, this creature's spark is still active."

"_What?!_"

"You heard me. It's not undead, at least not completely. It's still alive somehow."

"Wh–_How? _I mean, it _looks _undead. How can it be undead but...also _not_?"

"That I don't know. The only ways I have seen this substance work is infection to become a controller or infection to become undead. I didn't think there could even _be _a liminal state like this."

He looked down at the weakly squirming beast. "Doc, if it's still alive...can we help it somehow?"

"I wouldn't have the faintest idea how until I run a detailed diagnostic. To do that you'll have to remove yourself."

He faltered. The beast sensed it and squirmed more. Removing himself didn't seem like a very good idea unless someone had an industrial strength, 'bot-sized muzzle lying around somewhere. He was _pretty _sure they didn't. That wasn't exactly something anyone would have lying in a storage closet.

"I have another set of stasis cuffs should the need arise," offered Prowl.

"We can have Ribbondance bind its maw as well."

"Doc, this really doesn't sound like a good idea," he noted nervously. "You haven't seen how fast this thing moves. One slip and your hand will be lunch."

Ratchet huffed and argued that he had no reason to stick his hands anywhere near the beast's mouth so his worry about that particular scenario was unfounded. He subsequently called in both Ribbondance _and _Grimwing. When both Avioids caught sight of the sick Predacon their reactions were a tie between morbid curiosity and uneasiness and confused horror respectively. Ribbondance was quick to recover once Ratchet told her what he needed her to do. Grimwing tried to convince her of the danger but Ribbondance assured him she would be safe _– _and she was. With him pinning the Predacon's body and Grimwing pinning its maw, it was simple for Ribbondance to wind one of her weaponized ribbons into a muzzle.

Once Prowl got the second set of cuffs on its hind legs he removed himself. Admittedly, despite all the safety measures, he still felt like they were two seconds away from a disaster.

"Now, let's get a look at you..."

The old medic approached. The beast writhed and whined.

"Doctor, no," Grimwing urged. "This is dangerous. They are mad."

"I'm well aware of that, Grimwing."

"No. You do not understand. Look at its eyes. They are sick with the Old Hunger. Nothing, no amount of sustenance will satisfy it. It's only urge now is to feed."

"Like how Mr. Rowland described a Windego..." muttered Ratchet.

"Exactly."

"Interesting..."

Ratchet approached regardless and began his diagnostic. The red scanning beam swept once, twice, three times. Ratchet then allowed him to pin it again so he could get a closer look at its damaged arm. His frown deepened further still.

"That might explain the lack of a signal," he said. "That wound was self-inflicted. If I had to guess, the tracker chip was purposefully removed. That is what enabled it to hunt virtually undetected."

"Was that done before or after their...current condition?" wondered Ribbondance.

Ratchet put one to his chin while the other hovered over the injury. "Difficult to say for certain. I've...well, I've never really had the chance to study the physiology of a Terrorcon before now."

The beast whined, growled, and tried to lunge at Ratchet. He forced its head back into the snow.

"Grim? What _is _this Old Hunger?"

The Thunderbird shook his helm. "Much like Neal's tale of the Windego, I always thought the Hunger was nothing more than a frightful story meant to keep our hunting urges in check."

'_It is no mere story,_' Onyx growled softly. '_It is a dangerous malfunction in a beast's hunting coding. Once it takes hold, it overwrites nearly everything else and renders them mindlessly aggressive._'

'_Mindlessly aggressive..._' Optimus repeated. '_Are you implying __–_'

'_Your kind always wondered what happened to render the Predacons extinct. That is the unfortunate truth. When the Cataclysm happened, something about it triggered this malfunction en masse._ _My children, my pride and joy, went feral, attacking each other until none were left._'

His spark dropped into his trods. That sounded eerily familiar. He remembered Bulkhead had mentioned that Divebomb had pretty much gone feral too, uncaring of who he had attacked and eaten; his brothers had tried to wean him off the urge but had failed and given up in the end, leaving the giant serpent to ingloriously starve in time. This beast seemed to be having the same problem but _actually _seemed to have lost its mind in the process, retaining only enough to use hunting strategies. Was that because of the malfunction or was the Dark Energon affecting it somehow?

"Doc? Can you tell how it got infected?"

"It certainly wasn't through the spark chamber, I can say that much for certain. That means of introduction results in a very distinct frequency warping from crystallization that I am not detecting here."

He was a little freaked out that what Ratchet had said actually made sense to him; it wasn't just science gibberish _– _he actually _got _it. Optimus or Alchemist had to be to blame for that.

"How else _could _it be introduced?"

The medic eyed him sideways, "I suppose the same way it's been getting its meals."

"Hold up. You think it _ate _Dark Energon?" he gasped. "Okay, you'd definitely have to be nuts to do _that_!"

"Would you?" retorted Ratchet grimly.

He eyed Ratchet curiously. "Meaning?"

Ratchet came around closer to him pointed at one of the wounds on its back that he could see. Though the wound on its shoulder had the correct angle to have been self-inflicted, he said, none of the other open wounds matched that pattern. It had clearly been attacked by something _– _Autobot, Decepticon, a neutral refugee, even perhaps another Predacon. Those wounds were not minor either. Major lines had been breached and neurode bundles had been torn. The creature's jaw hinges and ligaments were further proof: those had clearly been sliced by a sharp object, not snapped due to poor care and overuse.

"As disturbing as it sounds, there is a twisted logic to what I'm about to suggest. At some point, this creature was gravely wounded, possibly near death. This Predacon may have stumbled across or even actively sought out Dark Energon in the hopes of keeping itself alive."

"Only the truly deranged or desperate would seek out the blood of Unicron," Ribbondance gasped.

"Or if your name happens to be Megatron, both," he commented snidely.

"Ahem," Ratchet warned.

"Sorry," he squeaked. "Keep going."

"As vile as the substance is, I cannot deny that it does have an effective healing ability in large enough doses _– _granted, it comes at a _very _steep cost. As Megatron proved, too much of it renders you susceptible to be puppeteered by Unicron."

"Is that what's happened here?" Grimwing wondered nervously.

"No. If it had _that _much Dark Energon in its system, it would've been detectable by satellite. This Predacon's mind, while clearly broken, is still its own."

As a cold wind blew past, their little gathering went quiet. As a Predacon himself, did that mean he had this error too?

_'No. Only truly forged Predacons had this problem. You are not such a one. If there is a risk at all, it is minimal, and you have our help. This beast had no such contingency to rely on._'

The beast continued to weakly squirm and whine beneath him. He was no longer afraid of the Predacon. All he felt was a deep pity.

"Can we get the stuff out?" he wondered quietly.

"There's little chance of that. The Dark Energon it consumed has been in long enough that it has been processed and pumped into its veins. We could blood-let it, but with how bad of a state this creature is in _–_"

"It'd die if we did that," he realized.

"I would argue this poor beast is already dead," murmured Grimwing.

"But what if we _can _help it?" he argued back.

"And then what, Infernus?" Prowl wondered bluntly. "Even if we could safely expunge the Dark Energon, this creature is still suffering from an extreme coding error that the Dark Energon may only be serving to amplify. We do not know how to correct this error or if it is correctable at all. Psychological coding errors like this rarely are."

Prowl's words caused an intense flash of sorrow from the Matrix.

Ratchet must've caught his expression change. As the resident doctor, he probably knew that the one option was the only option.

"Infernus," he said gently, "the kindest thing we do at this point is to put this poor beast out of its misery."

"By ripping it apart like a normal zombie-con?" he demanded. "That seems inhumane considering its still alive. Kind of."

"Remember this creature's spark is still present and active. In light of that, there is a much more humane option."

He had him move out of the way. Ratchet changed one hand into a knife and used the tip to tease open a nearly invisible seam on its back while the beast whined pitifully. Inside was a container: the spark chamber. Ratchet cut a few nerve bundles around it and then, with a grim face, removed the chamber. The Predacon went completely still and quiet after that; the purple light it had once been giving off dimmed. Grimwing and Ribbondance both kept a nervous watch over the corpse.

To his shock, Ratchet handed the chamber off to him.

"Wh-what am I supposed to do with this?" he stammered.

"Open it," Ratchet said, solemn-faced.

He took it from him. He didn't see _how _to open it though. In his hands, the chamber reacted and opened just a crack _–_ just enough to see the little ball of energy inside. The Matrix started "singing" then, and the little light inside came out. It flickered for a moment before a ghostly mirror of the beast took shape. It threw its helm back and unleashed a silent howl. Its form dropped and it waited eagerly right in front of his chassis.

"Uh...do I let it or...?"

'_Yes,_' the Voice instructed.

He obeyed, and the spark vanished inside.

'_My name is Hun-Gurr,_' came a low growl of a voice, '_and I am sorry for the trouble I caused. You need not forgive me. I do not deserve it._'

The Predacon's presence, and his guilt, faded.

"We're done here," he concluded. "Let's go home. Raf? We need a 'bridge."

* * *

"_Megatron._"

He admitted some surprise on hearing the young Prime's voice coldly (and boldly) addressing him.

Starscream was less than happy to hear him, frowning. "Still alive?" he hissed to himself. "Primes truly do have the proverbial nine lives of a cat, it seems."

"Quiet," he hissed back. "I assume this call is to inform me of your success?"

"_Your little 'pest problem' has been dealt with._"

"What was it?" he demanded.

"_Not your concern. We got rid of the killer. Pay up. You owe us._"

"Very well. I will see to it all personnel leave the mine by tomorrow."

"_No tricks?_" he asked suspiciously. "_You're not gonna rig the mine to blow the instant we step inside?_"

"Now there's an idea..." purred the grey Seeker.

He glared at him and he went silent.

"You did me a service. It is only fair I compensate you in some way. The mine will be yours to use."

"..._Yeah, call me crazy, but I don't trust you,_" Infernus declared. He then cut the line unceremoniously.

"Wiser than he looks," he muttered.

"Ahh, so there _is_ a trick involved," Starscream realized.

He deigned give the scheming Seeker a knowing smirk. "It is true I plan to give him the mine. I merely neglected to tell him the mine is nearly stripped. They _can _use it, true, but only for a short time. There is not enough raw Energon left in the mine to give them a significant edge."

"So you essentially had him do your work for free," the Seeker smiled deviously. "Clever! Very clever."

"If only _you _had had half such foresight then I would not have had to yield to him at all," he growled.

The Seeker smiled nervously and backed away. He let him leave the bridge unscathed.

* * *

**Author's Note: Apologies for there not being a *ton* of action in this. It's set up more as a thriller/mystery.**


End file.
